


Out of Breath (Day 5)

by chasingriver



Series: 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge - Mycroft/Sherlock [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Breathplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 01:26:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingriver/pseuds/chasingriver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock inadvertently discovers breath play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of Breath (Day 5)

**Author's Note:**

> This is Day 5 of 'ChasingRiver's 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge': "Breath Play"
> 
> I regret including 'breath play' in the original list of prompts. It can be dangerous and I should have been thinking more about that when I made the list. That's why I changed the original list to contain 'nipple play' for Day 5 instead of 'breath play'.
> 
> For more information on why breath play can be dangerous, see Jay Wiseman's essay on it [here](http://www.jaywiseman.com/SEX_BDSM_Breath_Medical_Realities.php). Jay Wiseman is a BDSM non-fiction author.
> 
> That said, I did address the safety issue somewhat, so I decided to publish it. However, there is a fair amount of angst with the porn, so you've been warned.
> 
> Beta: deklava
> 
>  **Warnings** : sibling incest

The first time they did it, it was completely inadvertent.

John was still off at Harry's, and Mycroft had come round for the evening. They'd had some tea - Mycroft had insisted - then dispensed with the rest of the pleasantries and gone straight to the bedroom. Their couplings were infrequent enough, and precious enough, that neither of them wanted to waste time with idle chat.

Sherlock had ended up on his hands and knees with Mycroft knelt behind him, fucking him so hard he thought he might split in half. Not that he minded; he was the one begging for more.

Each time Mycroft's balls slapped against his skin; each time he felt that glorious rub across his gland, he grunted his appreciation. He wasn't even aware of it, he just wanted more. Harder. Now.

Mycroft took Sherlock's slick cock in his hand. Every thrust sent it sliding through Mycroft's fist, bringing him even closer.

And apparently making him even louder.

Afterwards, he'd deny he'd been that loud, but he knew he probably had been.

"God, My, harder; I'm so close!"

"Hush! Do you want Mrs Hudson in here?"

He didn't care _who_ came in at that moment. He just wanted more. He finally felt the hot tight spring uncurl in his gut, and let out a rough scream of pleasure.

Mycroft clamped his hand over Sherlock's mouth as he came, in an effort to keep him quiet.

Except he hadn't covered his mouth, exactly. He'd covered both his mouth and his nose, and Sherlock couldn't breathe. He reflexively sucked against Mycroft's palm, but his brother was in the throes of his own orgasm, and he failed to notice.

Not that Sherlock cared. The orgasm ripped through him, and each shuddering, breathless pulse of it felt like a warm blanket of white noise. It felt like flying. It felt utterly incredible. And it felt like it went on for much longer than it actually did.

Mycroft took his hand off Sherlock's mouth immediately after he'd come, and the oxygen hit Sherlock's brain like bright sunlight as he sucked in a lungful of air. As they both collapsed into a messy heap on the bed, Mycroft realised what he'd done.

"Oh my God. Are you alright? I didn't realise."

Sherlock nodded, still wearing a slightly stupid smile. "Hypoxia," he said. "I'd never thought of applying it to sex."

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Mycroft swore, very uncharacteristically. "Look, just because you got off on it doesn't make it a good idea. It's dangerous."

His stupid smile got even wider. "You know how much I enjoy 'dangerous'."

Mycroft rolled over and pinned him to the bed. "We're not doing it again, do you understand?" His voice was firm and serious, and Sherlock could care less.

"Who said anything about 'we'? I do understand the concept of masturbation, you know."

"Oh, God," Mycroft said, in a despairing voice. "No, Sherlock, you can die that way." He stared at him and his brows creased in frustration. "Look. If we do this together - _sometimes_ \- do you promise me you won't do it by yourself? _Ever_?"

He rolled his eyes. Mycroft was right of course; it was dangerous. Hypoxia could induce euphoria, and apparently one hell of an orgasm, but it could also lead to accidental death. Solitary play probably wasn't the _best_ idea.

"Fine," he agreed with a sigh. "I promise."

* * *

The next time, Sherlock had asked - almost pleaded - to try it again.

They were on their sides; Mycroft lay curled behind him, with a strong arm wrapped over his shoulder and across his chest, holding him in place as he pounded into him. This time, as he started to come, Mycroft pulled his arm more tightly against the side of Sherlock's neck.

 _Restriction of blood flow through the carotid artery reduces oxygen flow to the brain and causes a buildup of carbon dioxide,_ he thought in one long rush of words, as the warmth and noise enveloped him and his vision dimmed at the edges, and he came, hard.

Mycroft wasn't normally chatty after sex, but this time, he was downright pensive.

"What's wrong, Mycroft?" He was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

"Look…" he sighed. "I've read up on this. It's just not safe. It can cause PVCs that could lead to cardiac arrest, and the buildup of carbon dioxide can cause potentially fatal blood pH issues. We can't do this. I don't care how low the odds are. I'd be devastated if I lost you. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I'd caused it."

It was pretty much the answer he'd expected. He'd found the same data.

They both lay there in silence for a long time. Finally, Sherlock spoke.

"Alright. But there's something I still want you to do."

Mycroft gave him a puzzled look.

"It wasn't _entirely_ the rush of it. I'd like you to just put your hand on my neck sometimes, when we're having sex. It makes me feel… I don't know, like I'm giving you control."

Mycroft's face registered surprise, but he just nodded. "Of course."

* * *

They never did experiment with it again. They both discovered that sensation-induced endorphins were just as much fun and didn't have the risks.

But Sherlock still wore his scarf pulled through in a loop, and sometimes, when he was having a miserable day, he'd tighten it just enough so he could pretend it was his brother's warm palm encircling his throat.


End file.
